


jude law and a semester abroad

by cherryvanilla



Category: Inception
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-20
Updated: 2010-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell all the English boys you meet."</p>
            </blockquote>





	jude law and a semester abroad

**Author's Note:**

> Title and Lyrics by Brand New. Written for a Prince!Eames prompt.

“There’s something up with him,” mutters Arthur under his breath. They walk to their standard table in the courtyard and Arthur plops a French fry into his mouth. “I’m serious, Ariadne.”

She shakes her head, following his gaze. “You’re ridiculous. We’re not having this discussion again.”

Arthur watches Him, _Eames_ , laugh with Mal, an artsy senior, and Dom Cobb, her super popular boyfriend. Ever since Eames transferred a month ago, Arthur’s been a man on a mission.

He jumps when Ariadne pokes him. “You’re foolishly overexerting yourself, Arthur. Do you not realize your efforts could be put to far better use, such as you know, actually _talking_ to Eames.”

“Who said I want to talk to Eames? And stop calling him that, I told you there’s no way that’s his real name!”

Ariadne takes a sip of her Snapple and pokes him again. “You’re a hopeless case, Arthur. This is a guy who actively tries to talk to you and you ignore him.”

“Asking me for a ‘pencil, love’ is not actively talking.”

Ariadne stares at him hard. “He’s introduced himself to you, he’s offered to be your partner in Chem lab, he’s asked to study with you. The list goes on and on. Get with the program, Arthur, Brit boy wants your skinny ass.”

“Shh! Jesus, Ari, would you _please_. None of it matters. He’s not who he says. He’s a liar and I’ll prove it.” Arthur motions his chin in Eames’ direction and throws up his hands, “Honestly, who wears a Tom Ford suit to high school!”

“Jealous much?” Ariadne grins. Arthur groans.  
_________________________________________

The teachers call him Eames. The teachers don’t call anyone by their last name. “We’re not living in a 1980s film, Ariadne!” Arthur responds when Ari couldn’t seem to understand the relevance. No one knows his first name and Arthur, and only Arthur, is convinced no student at least knows his last name either. When Arthur tries to peer over Eames’ shoulder during class, he simply gets accused of cheating on the English test and handed a detention slip. This is not before he catches a glimpse of **T H E G R E A T E A M E S** scribbled obnoxiously large in the name field.

A week later, Arthur figures it out and corners Eames by gym lockers after school. Eames runs track. Arthur doesn’t like to think about how Eames runs track.

“Why, Arthur,” Eames purrs when Arthur stalks in close, pointing a finger at Eames’ mid section. Arthur doesn’t live in a world where guys purr. Arthur ignores him.

“I know what you’re up to.”

Eames grins, delighted. “Really?! And here I thought I was being discreet,” he responses, dryly.

“Well, you’re not. You’re a _narc_.” Arthur punctuates the word with a triumphant jab to Eames’ stomach.

Eames sputters. “Pardon?” His eyes are practically dancing.

“And you can drop that accent; it’s as fake as your Louis Moinet.”

Eames looks affronted. “My Grandmum bought me this watch,” he answers, frowning in the direction of his arm.

“I’m sure,” Arthur rolls his eyes. “And my mom bought me a Lotus. Anyway, you can stop your act now.”

Eames lips are quirking up into a smile and Arthur’s suddenly aware of how close their bodies are. He feels Eames shift ever so slightly, one bare shin (track, Eames runs track) knocking into his own jean clad leg. “I wasn’t aware there were a copious amount of drugs at this school,” Eames teases, eyes sparkling.

“What? No, we don’t..”

“Then why hire a narc, pray tell?”

Arthur frowns until he can hardly see. “Don’t change the subject! You are not who you say you are.”

“Well. I don’t say much about whom I am in general, love, so your theory is flawed.”

“There is such a thing as a lie by omission,” Arthur crosses his arms.

Eames still looks highly amused. This isn’t working at all. Arthur searches his memory. “And! You said you thought you were being discreet. Hence, you have something to hide.”

Arthur watches as a hint of something he can’t define flickers ever so briefly in Eames’ eyes. Suddenly, Arthur feels a lone finger skimming along his outer left thigh. “I merely thought you were commenting on my lack of subtly with regard to flirtation.” Arthur stares blankly. He’s not sure if his brain shorted out from the touch or the words or both. “In your direction, naturally,” Eames adds, as if Arthur needs specification.

Arthur is fully aware that his mouth is hanging open. And even though Ariadne had warned him of this possible development and even though he thought about it in his room at night, it still made Arthur’s list of improbable possibilities.

Eames’ finger had worked its way up Arthur’s side, causing his body to jerk slightly, shivering. Eames came to a stop at his rib cage and splayed his fingers wide. “Perhaps lack of subtly wasn’t the problem, mm?” Eames leaned in slowly, eyes level with Arthur, never blinking, and clearly giving Arthur a chance to bolt. Then Eames’ lips are on his and Arthur doesn’t think a narc would go this far to protect his cover, wouldn’t push his tongue slowly against Arthur’s lips, coaxing him apart on a gasp while his fingers tighten across Arthur’s ribcage.

Arthur closes his eyes and leans into Eames, licking at him slowly, all while playing his next move.

__________________________________

The next day, Arthur does what any 16 year old who was kissed and humped within an inch of his life against the gym lockers, only to interrupted by the sound of the coach coming in gather Eames up for practice and sent home with the worst case of blue balls ever, would do; he breaks into the registrar’s office. Arthur painstakingly searches through the computer system, name by name. After an hour, eyes bleary from the thousands of names scrolling across the screen with each click of the mouse, he finds it. “William!” he exclaims. Clear as day, the bright blue text reveals William Eames ______________. Arthur scratches at the back of his neck, wondering why the blank is there. He notices Eames’ original residence is Westminster.

Quickly, he prints out the page and races off school grounds, speed-dialing Ari in the process. “His first name is William! And I think his middle name is Eames, I still can’t find his last name. And he’s from Westminster.”

Ariadne is silent.

“Ari! Did you hear me! I told you he was lying!”

“Oh, Arthur.”

Arthur can hear the shake of her head. He pauses and stares at the phone. “What?”

“For two smart people, you and I are terribly dense.”

Arthur scratches the back of his neck again. “….”

“William! Westminster! Secrets! Expensive clothes! He’s the Prince, Arthur. He’s the goddamn, or shall I say _bloody_ , Prince!”

Arthur falls backward onto the grass.

“Oh, shit.”

“Damn, Arthur, you were right after all!”

Arthur’s head is spinning. He laughs, a bit hysterically. “ _Shit_.” Of course, it all fits now, the clothes, the cars, the watch. The.. ‘ _Grandmum_.’

“Shit!” Arthur repeats. “Ari, I made out with the Prince of fucking England. His grandmother will skin me alive!”

Ariadne howls with laughter.

[end]


End file.
